


The Lost Lenore

by grellagainstgrossness



Series: Tumblr Drabble Requests [12]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 03:11:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5231678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grellagainstgrossness/pseuds/grellagainstgrossness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fire didn’t just “happen”. Demons, though, demons… did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lost Lenore

The first time Lizzy saw her mother cry was the same day that she saw her Auntie cry. She was eleven years old. “Fire,” they whispered in hushed murmurs around her, her parents her brother the servants. “Fire.”

Even at that age, she was young enough to understand the veiled tension underscoring those words. Fire didn’t just “happen”. Demons, though, demons… did.

—

A month later, Lizzy found out what it meant to have her heart healed and shattered at the same time. Ciel, her cousin, her best friend - he was alive. It had been blood mages, those frightening beasts that haunted many a bedtime story, and so the Templars were holding onto him until they were sure the blood mages wouldn’t come after him again.

It was… sad, to not see him again. But Lizzy was a big girl. It was better for them to make sure he was safe, and then she could see him later, right?

She would get stronger, so it wouldn’t happen again.

—

Edward left, eventually - he grew, he changed, he was still her big brother but he was OLDER. He became a recruit, training to become a Templar. He would be able to protect Ciel. Lizzy… Lizzy still hadn’t seen him.

But Edward was good, and Edward was strong, and he would do a good job of it, too. One day, if Ciel wasn’t back yet, Lizzy would join the Templars. She was certain of it. Then, she’d be able to find out why Ciel wasn’t answering her letters, why he was still there after - after three whole years, and if they were ever, ever… ever going to catch those blood mages.

Sometimes, she awoke screaming, imagining the flickering flames surrounding her own bed like they had eaten her aunt and uncle alive.

—

“Ciel isn’t coming home.” At 15-years-old, Elizabeth Midford stared up at her mother, unable to comprehend. 

“What?”

“Ciel. Isn’t. Coming. Home.” Her mother articulated it word by word, as if that would make it more clear. “When… when someone has been exposed to blood mages, the Templars don’t let them go. It’s too dangerous.”

The idea made her knees tremble. Even- Even if it had been five years, Ciel was still her cousin, still her best friend (though Sieglinde was lovely, it was a different vibe), and she… she wanted him back. “Where is he, then? Where’s Ciel!?” Her voice raised, as did the pitch, but- but-

Mother didn’t answer.

—

The next year was- was a daze and not. On one hand, Ciel - Ciel was never coming home. Ever. He wasn’t coming back. He wasn’t. Her cousin! Her old best friend!

But if she was a Templar, she could see him - she could see him again. Hold his hand once more, hold him tight, make sure he was alright.

It had- It had been six years, though - would he care? Should she throw it all away? Did it even matter? As a Templar, she may not ever meet him once more… There was so much space in Orlais, after all, so many Templars…

Edward solved the problem nicely. “Harcourt got transferred to Aeonar, supposedly, but I wonder if he just dropped out,” he was saying, when that caught Lizzy’s attention.

“Aeonar?”

“Oh.” He blinked, as if surprised to remember she wouldn’t know. “The mages’ prison. They don’t send mages there, though, just like blood mage captives and stuff. Not sure what they do, but…”

—

Aeonar. It was the center of it all. It was where Ciel most likely was, it was where she could see him, and it-

It was a place that she didn’t know the location of. At all. It gnawed at her, ate at her. She practiced harder and practiced fiercer. Bit at her lip until it bled, and then reopened it all over again. Her hands were coated with calluses, her eyes red from the tears she shed at night.

In the end, for Lizzy, it came down to this: could she live with herself, knowing this? Sitting here, living her life in prosperity, while Ciel endured who knows what? In who knows where?

Inhale, exhale. Breathe. One, two, three. “Auntie, could you do me a favor? I need your help.”

—

At age 17, she broke down the door. Seven years.


End file.
